Hello Bubbles๐๐
Let's start today's chapter๐
เคเคเคฎเคพ เคฐเคนเคพ เคฎเฅเคเฅ เคเฅเคฏเฅเค เค เคญเฅ เคเคพ เคเคนเฅเค เคธเฅ
เค เคฌ เคคเฅ เคเฅเคธเฅ เคฎเฅเค เคเคฟเคฏเฅเคเคเคพ เคคเฅเคฐเฅ เคฌเคฟเคจเคพ
๐ฅ๐๐ท
โAuthor's POV
The moon hid behind heavy clouds as Aditya's car rolled to a stop in front of the charred remains of the farmhouse.
Again.
Neither he nor Zain spoke. The air was too thick, too still, like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting.
Zain stepped out first, flashlight already in hand. "Why here again?" he asked, though he knew the answer. Aditya was quiet, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the hollow windows as if they might blink back.
"She's pulling me here," Aditya finally muttered. "Or something is."
The old wooden floor groaned beneath their boots as they entered. The scent of ash, damp earth, and forgotten secrets still lingered like ghosts in the walls.
Zain moved toward the hallway while Aditya stepped into what used to be the living room where he had himself shot her.
A broken photo frame caught his eye on the wall.
It held nothing now. The glass cracked long ago.
But something was wrong.
He stepped closer.
And noticed faint scratches along the side of the frame. Almost... deliberate.
"Zain," Aditya called, already tugging at the frame. It didn't budge easily, but with a firm pull, it jerked loose revealing a hidden compartment.
Zain rushed over as Aditya shone his flashlight inside.
A small hollow space. Dust-covered.
But there tucked inside was a single old diary page, and a rusted key.
The page was brittle with time and smoke, but the writing on it was clea written in delicate cursive.
" If you're reading this, don't trust the mirrors. Don't trust what you saw. Trust what you remember. The truth is under the roots."
Aditya's heartbeat picked up. "Roots?"
Zain looked around, confused. "Whose writing is this?"
Aditya clenched the page. "It's hers."
Suddenly, a creak above them.
They both froze.
Eyes shot upward.
There was no ceiling anymore, not after the fire.
But the sound had been real.
Zain raised his gun. "We're not alone."
They moved cautiously to the hallway again.
And then Aditya saw it.
Blood.
A trail, faint but fresh, leading to the backroom that had collapsed months ago.
The flashlight flickered.
They followed the crimson path cautiously. Each step echoed like a warning. The room was cold unnaturally cold.
And there it was.
Etched on the blackened wall in smeared blood:
"I knew you'd come again for her here. But she's dead."
Zain whispered, "This wasn't here before..."
Aditya's hand tightened into a fist. "Someone is trying to make me believe it. Over and over again."
Then Zain's flashlight swept across the corner and caught something strange.
A portion of the wooden floor wasn't real wood it was metal, painted to blend in.
A trapdoor.
Aditya knelt and shoved aside the charred plank. The metal hatch creaked as he pulled it open, revealing a dark staircase descending into unknown blackness.
They looked at each other.
Neither spoke.
They descended.
Dust choked the narrow air as they climbed down into what looked like a secret cellar untouched by fire, untouched by time.
Shelves lined the walls. Dozens of notebooks. Cans. A broken chair.
And on one table photographs.
Of Aditya.
Kritika.
Together, it was their photo from Holi with a cross mark on Kritika's face with not a marker but blood.
Zain stared, horror slowly blooming across his face.
"These were taken without your knowledge."
Aditya flipped through the pile and there, in the center, was a photo of him kneeling by the tulip flowers yesterday.
"What the hell..." he whispered.
There was a camera. He pressed it.
Photos. Their photos, each of them were taken without their knowledge.
One from their Wedding, Pooja, Holi and last one was from the day she died.
On the next picture it was written,
"You were never supposed to find her body. That was your first gift. But now... you've broken the deal."
Zain whispered, "Who the f*ck is playing this game?"
And just then something moved behind them.
A soft rustle. A door creaked.
They spun, guns raised but the passage was empty.
Only the echo of footsteps retreating into the dark.
And on the table, a fresh note that hadn't been there before:
"You were always mine but she married you. But now she's dead and no one is gonna come between us. I love you Aditya"
Zain's breath hitched.
Aditya didn't move.
His eyes were frozen on the note, the paper still fluttering slightly, as if whoever left it was just here. Maybe still nearby. Watching.
The words carved themselves into his chest.
The handwriting was... shaky. Rushed. Like obsession bleeding through ink.
Zain read it over his shoulder. "What the f*ck is this? Who's 'I'?"
Aditya's throat tightened. He couldn't answer. Not yet.
His mind was racing. That voice on the recorder. This note. The ring. The footprints in the garden. All of it.
A stalker? A woman from the past?
Or...
Zain moved toward the stairs. "We need to get out of here and run this note for prints. This place..."
SLAM.
The trapdoor above them shut.
Hard.
Zain froze.
Aditya snapped his gun up toward the ceiling.
Silence.
Then... click.
A soft, deliberate sound.
From behind the shelves.
Someone was still here.
Zain whispered, "You said this place was abandoned..."
Aditya's jaw clenched. "I was wrong."
He stepped forward cautiously, circling the room. Every shadow felt alive now. Every wall whispered.
And then, carved faintly behind the photos on the table, they saw it...
Another message. Etched deep into the wood:
"She screamed your name.
But you didn't come."
"Aditya don't let these word affect you. Someone is trying to manipulate you." Zain told him strictly.
Aditya backed away, heart hammering.
Zain whispered, "This isn't just obsession. This is someone deranged. And they've been here for a long time."
Aditya's hands trembled not with fear, but rage. "Whoever this is... they were watching us. Following us. They knew I'd come back for her."
Zain nodded grimly. "They want you to believe Kritika's gone. But... this? This feels personal. Like they want you to belong to them."
And just as they turned to leave...
A projector switched on.
A dusty old reel on the back wall flickered to life. Neither of them had touched it.
The film was grainy.
But on it... played a clip of Kritika.
Laughing.
Sitting by the Tulip garden. Painting. Wearing that same ring.
It was footage neither of them had ever seen before.
And then... the camera zoomed out.
Revealing someone else was filming it.
From inside the house.
Zain's face drained of color.
"Whoever is this, they are from our family. Someone close to us."
Aditya stared, every muscle in his body tight with fury.
She was being watched. Even then.
And then, on the final frame of the video, words burned into the screen:
"You were mine long before she touched you.And now that she's gone... you're coming home to me."
The screen went black.
And the trapdoor creaked open again.
As if inviting them to leave...
Or warning them to run.
ยฐ๐๐ณ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ ๐๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ธยฐ
The chandelier sparkled above like shattered diamonds as violins hummed a haunting melody in the grand, dimly lit hall. Velvet curtains, black marble floors, golden railings it all screamed opulence. But beneath the charm, there was a different scent in the air tonight.
Something rotten.
Something dangerous.
Aditya stepped into the hall with Zain beside him, both dressed in all black. Tailored tuxedos. No visible weapons. Only cold eyes and tighter jaws.
This wasn't a place to fight.
This was a place to watch.
To listen.
To hunt.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Zain muttered under his breath, scanning the elegantly dressed guests, some wearing masks that were less about aesthetics and more about identity concealment.
Aditya's gaze swept over the crowd. Politicians, foreign smugglers, international arms dealers... and at the center of it all: the underworld's most dangerous players.
It was an exclusive, high-stakes mafia summit hosted every two years in a different country, under a different name.
This year, it was called The Crimson Veil Gala.
A celebration of blood, business, and betrayal.
But Aditya and Zain weren't here to drink champagne or strike deals.
They were here for one name.
La Nora Rose.
A ghost in the mafia world. No one had ever seen them. Some said they are a myth. Others whispered they are death disguised as a men. They had no face. No fixed territory. But their signature was always the same, messages written in blood, twisted games, and calculated chaos.
And somehow, they were connected to Kritika's death.
Or what they thought was her death.
"They are going to be here," Zain said under his breath, adjusting his collar. "That's what the source said."
Aditya didn't respond.
His eyes were already locked on everyone, finding unfamiliar figure.
Just then he saw two figures standing in the garden but only their shadows were showing on the wall.
Before he could move, a sleek woman in a glittering black saree walked up to them, balancing two crystal glasses on a silver tray. Her eyes sparkled like mischief, but her smile was soft.
"Compliments from the house," she said.
Aditya stared at her. "Who sent these?"
She smiled wider. "Someone who's been watching."
Zain gave him a look.
"Don't," Aditya warned, but Zain was already sipping it.
"Relax, Aditya," he said, licking his lips. "If they wanted us dead, they'd have done it on arrival."
Aditya took the glass, but didn't drink.
His eyes returned to the place where two figures were standing but now there was no one.
Just then, a man brushed past him, whispering as he passed, "The rose doesn't bloom twice, but it leaves thorns behind."
Aditya's head snapped toward him but the man was gone. Vanished into the crowd.
"What the...." Zain blinked. "Did he say something about a rose?"
Aditya didn't answer. He set the drink down.
"I don't like this."
But just then, a bell rang.
The ballroom's lights dimmed further. A woman in red heels stepped up to the center stage, flanked by two masked guards.
A hush fell.
The crowd turned.
Everyone stared as she lifted her hand and the music stopped.
Her voice was rich, deep, and distorted slightly, like someone speaking through a filter.
"Tonight," she said, "we welcome the wolves, the kings, the forgotten, and the feared."
Aditya's eyes narrowed.
"In this room," she continued, "every secret has a price. Every life has value. And every lie... bleeds."
She paused, smiling behind her mask.
"Drink, dear guests. You'll need your courage."
They both walked in the corner and sat on the chair. One waiter came there with drink and gave them.
Aditya turned to Zain but his best friend was already swaying slightly.
"Zain..."
Zain clutched his forehead. "It's hot in here, isn't it?"
Aditya grabbed him by the shoulder. "You drank it."
"No, I didn't finish it," Zain mumbled. "It was just a sip"
"Try it buddy" Zain gave him the drink as Aditya drank the whole glass in one sip.
They both drank.
But this time, the burn was... off.
Aditya frowned.
The whiskey didn't bite his throat the way it should have. It was... dull. Sweet. Laced with something metallic beneath the warmth.
He blinked slowly. His vision shifte once, twice. The lights began to blur, stretch, like watching stars melt.
Across from him, Zain dropped his glass.
It shattered on the floor.
"Aditya..." Zain tried to speak, but his voice warped into static.
Aditya tried to stand. His chair scraped loudly against the floor but then his knees buckled.
His hand reached for his gun.
But he never made it.
โโ
A sharp sting pulled Aditya back to consciousness.
His breath hitched as his eyes opened, heavy, vision blurred. A single tube light flickered above, painting the concrete room in a sick, pulsing glow. The air smelled of sweat, rusted iron... and dried blood.
His head throbbed.
His wrists burned.
He was tied. Thick ropes lashed his hands to the wooden arms of the chair, ankles secured to the floor.
Across the room, he saw another body slumped...Zain.
Groaning, Zain stirred.
"Aditya...?"
Aditya clenched his jaw, blinking the haze from his eyes. "Yeah. I'm here."
A slow creak echoed through the room.
A figure stepped into the light.
Black boots.
Gloved hands.
A gun dangling lazily at his side.
Behind him stood a line of masked menall in black, motionless like shadows. Their faces covered with blank silver masks, eyes hollow.
The one in front? He didn't wear a mask.
He didn't need one.
Rajbir Singh.
Aditya's rival.
The same man whose brother he buried.
His brother was the one who kidnapped Kritika months ago.
His brother loved her and tried to take her away from him but when Aditya found about it after Kritika's death, he killed his brother ruthlessly.
And now he's taking revenge.
He smirked, gun twirling once in his hand before he walked up to Aditya, eyes burning with a fury that had waited too long.
"Well, well..." Rajbir said, voice low and venomous. "The great Aditya Ray Raghuvanshi. King of Rajasthan. Mafia Lord. And yet... look at you."
Aditya met his stare, eyes cold. "If you're trying to impress me, get in line. I've seen scarier things in my nightmares."
Rajbir's smile faded.
Then...CRACK!
His fist slammed across Aditya's face, sending his head whipping to the side. Blood filled his mouth. His lip split.
Zain struggled in his chair. "Touch him again, and I swear..."
Rajbir aimed the gun at Zain casually. "You'll do what? Blink harder?"
Aditya chuckled, spitting blood on the floor. "You hit like a schoolboy."
Rajbir's hand twitched on the trigger, but he stepped back.
"You're probably wondering why you're still alive," he said.
Aditya didn't answer.
Zain muttered, "Let me guess... you want to talk about your feelings before you shoot us?"
Rajbir laughed.
"Actually... I want you to feel the pain I felt when I lost my brother. Well, you've already felt more than thathaven't you? Losing your wife."
He leaned in closer, the metal of his gun brushing against Aditya's forehead.
"And the most delicious part?"A cruel smirk stretched across Rajbir's face.
"You killed her yourself... with your own hands."
Aditya's jaw clenched, eyes dark as a storm, but he said nothing.
The pain in his chest twisted like a knife. His mind screamed it was a lie but doubt? Doubt had a voice too now. Loud. Ruthless.
Rajbir took a step back, cocking the gun with a click that echoed louder than thunder in the silence.
"Say hello to her when you get to hell."
His finger moved to the trigger.
Aditya stared him down.
Unflinching.
Unapologetic.
Unbroken.
And then...
Everything went black.
The entire room was swallowed by darkness.
A deep, all-consuming blackout.
The single flickering bulb overhead shattered with a burst of sparks.
Rajbir's voice pierced the black:
"What the-?!"
There was scrambling and then gunshot.
Zain shouted, "ADITYAA!"
๐๐ก๐๐ญ'๐ฌ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ ๐จ๐ซ ๐๐จ๐๐๐ฒ, ๐๐จ๐ฉ๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ค๐๐ ๐๐ญ!
~๐๐จ๐ฐ'๐ฌ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ญ๐๐ซ?
~๐๐ก๐๐ญ ๐ก๐๐ฉ๐ฉ๐๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ญ ๐ฅ๐๐ฌ๐ญ? ๐๐ฌ ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ข๐ซ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ญ ๐๐๐ข๐ญ๐ฒ๐?
Next chaptet is going to be super intresting and many truths will unfold.
VOTE AND COMMENT FOR
NEXT CHAPTER
๐๐ญ๐๐ฒ ๐๐๐๐โค๏ธ
๐๐จ๐ฏ๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ๐๐
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